


The Ballad of the Warlord

by ValentineTN



Series: The Balad of the Warlord [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Gen, Keeping to the lore, M/M, Memes and References everywhere, Multi, Other, Sadism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineTN/pseuds/ValentineTN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped. When the trice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles. When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding. The World Eater wakes and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn...”<br/>“...a dragonborn who will become the last.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inhale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two types of people who play Skyrim. 1. The Casual: This is the type of person who skips dialogues, kills everything in sight and jerks off to the companions, only to end up making a poor fanfiction about it. 2. The Loremonger: This is the type of guy who drains the game off all it has to offer, and then more! This is my first work ever. I'm not a native English speaker, though it has become my best used language. I pretty much decided to write this because I got sick of person 1! I hope you'll enjoy it.

My eyes met nothing but pure darkness. My vision didn’t adapt and I found myself unable to move, my arms meeting what felt like walls made of iron, or it could have been any sort of metal. I started to have troubles breathing, as the air around me became staler and staler with each passing second. Without even realising it, my hands started to push forward.

My eyes were forced shut by a penetrating light and my silenced ears started to pound as the deafening sound of metal clashing with stone made me wish I didn’t let curiosity get the better of me again. As my vision started to adjust, I found myself lying in a sarcophagus in the middle of a room which seemed to be carved in stone. Soon after, my dizziness vanquished and as the fresh air made me calm myself, I got up and started walking around the room, trying to notice any small detail that might remind me of how I’ve gotten myself in such a situation.

The room, as well as...‘my’ sarcophagus had various northern decorations. There were some shelves made out of the same type of metal as my sarcophagus, with some ruined books and cobwebs on them. I noticed a large stone table with stone thrones surrounding it. They were all decorated with the same rusted odd metal that bared Nordic designs. The light that pierced my eyes when I first opened the lid was coming from a small bulb of magic. It was a simple Magelight spell, just hovering in a corner with no soul gem to further extend its duration.

I found it rather strange, and for a good few minutes I stared blankly at it. My expression suddenly changed from my trance to a full on shock as the memories resurfaced.

* * *

I was sitting in a stone throne on the balcony of my personal quarters within Bromjunaar. I found myself blankly staring at a slowly rising Masser. The book in my lap has shunned my attention pretty quickly, as it was filled with a load of theological propaganda that one of the first priests dared to write down about the dov.

The odd fact, that I chose this particular book out of seemingly endless, more qualitative lectures -that I simply have access to- would surprise many, but not me. For I have long since found the end of all that our library had to offer. ‘Of course, time is something that I simply have.’ I thought to myself.

I was suddenly ripped out of my Neverworld, when I heard my door bust open, followed up by a trail of loud and fast steps. Out of the corner of my eye I have spotted a young man, wearing our variant of light armour –if you could even call it that. The fabric was made out of wolf pelts. Those were especially good for keeping warm in the harsh climate; good for keeping you unnoticed in the non moonlit nights or even make others confuse you with a lycanthrope. Though the man –or rather boy- in front of me decided to lay waste to my new trail of thoughts.

“Sir, our scouts have received information about the position and battle plans of the rebels. They are seeking to siege down our city with over ten thousand men.’’ he said between violent breaths.

“Calm down, lad! Where were they last spotted?’’ I replied to the soldier before me, whose sweat now started to taint the floor. ‘Great! Now I’ll have to clean up again.’ I thought to myself.

“North-East of here, they will probably arrive within twelve hours.’’

“WHAT? What kind of limp and pathetic scouts do we have? Are they some sort of lazy horkers, who are just sitting in the watchtower and staring blankly in the horizon?’’ I said with inhuman anger in my voice. The messenger was trembling in fear. ‘Great! Now there will probably be tears too in the mix.’ “Don’t just sit there! Give word to the captain to sound the alarm and have everybody retreat trough the caves. Move it!’’ I added, now angry with the situation I had to deal with. ‘...before I add blood to the concoction.’ I would have liked to add.

“...every single body? Aren’t-“

“Haven’t I made myself clear? Yes, I want every single damned body, be it soldier, woman, child or goat, to leave this city at once!”

With that the messenger rushed out the door. And I began to prepare myself for the upcoming siege.

“The people I have to deal with...” I mumbled to myself.

‘Sure, having everyone retreat might seem like a rash decision, but there was no time to plan it out. Twelve hours to greet ten thousand man with the five hundred I have? There’s no way in Oblivion I could live with that! I would risk losing all of them, plus I am thinking of putting up quite a show for our guests.’ was all my inner self felt like explaining to myself, a devilish smirk appearing beneath my mask at the last observation I made.

As dawn broke out, the main gate of Bronjunaar was heavily sealed. I stood atop the front wall wearing my armoured robes, greaves, gauntlets, pendant, ring and mask. I had my long sword, forged by the elves east of Skyrim using the very metal found in the bowels of Vvardnfell. While my swordplay was decent, I still didn’t feel too confident on sorely relying on my sword –not against an army that big anyway. And I also had my staff, gifted to me by a very good friend and subordinate. It is said that this very staff was created by Magnus himself and that it could amplify the power of even the Grandest Arch-Mage of any plane of existence. I also had a few large flasks of medical brews and a bunch of bandages in a chest near me. With seemingly few on my person, and an abandoned city behind me, I stood and waited the enemy.

‘How comes that mortals have learned how to properly speak falls beyond my imagination, though they are mere children in comparison to me, Konahrik, first -not so mortal anymore- born son of Akatosh.’ My inner voice echoed through my head. While waiting the enemy, my mind pondered on my last thought. More exactly, on how I got to the point I got. The beginning not being as bright as the present was.

* * *

I know not much about my early years of life. I am a Bron, a Nord as others would call us. I was left as an orphan at the steps of the temple of Bromjunaar. An old priest took me in, one whose name is feared by many. Vokun, the Shadow as he would be called outside of Dovahzul. He was a great mage, who dwelled in the schools of magic few would dare to even hear about. As a child I have heard many rumours about him. People were saying that he would go into the Hall of the Dead and dance with the long deceased corpses of fallen heroes, children, men and women who died young, and all sort of other things. Of course, nobody dared explain a child what necrophilia meant. Some said he could turn someone into a goat with no effort, and that even his presence caused unease and hallucinations. But of course, rumours are only rumours.

Well, at least some of them are. I later found out that he was a lich. He told me that himself. Of course, at the time I took that as a mere joke, but as time progressed, I came to realise that he was serious.

Nevertheless, he was a great parent. He taught me how to read and write, how to use basic magic suited for my age, how to take care of the apartment when he was gone. He helped me become an acolyte, and later on, a dragon priest. He was always nice to me, gave me the tastiest food I could imagine and taught me so much.

As I reached the age of twenty, something rather strange happened. As I held my first preach, upon reading the word ‘Fus’, a wave of magic blasted the book off the lectern and made a few people in front of me fall to the ground. After that little incident, the way the people viewed me changed completely. My fellow citizens started to act so wired around me. The word in town was only about me and it became so annoying that Alduin himself accompanied by his top lieutenants came to deal with this problem and clear things out.

I had mixed feelings about the whole affair. Excitement and fear were running through my veins at the same time. The dov did not really care about us or our whole cult for that matter, they just liked the worshipping and appreciation that we had for them. So for them to intervene directly meant something big was going to occur. We have all gathered in front of the temple to heed their word. My fears came true when Alduin told me to step forth. And then he made his intentions clear.

“You there, joor, as well as the rest of you, hear me out! Word has it that the one standing before us has spoken as only a dovah can.” he said in his deep and powerful voice.

Alduin looked at my petrified body and soon after he continued his speech.

“There is a legend that speaks of dov trapped inside the bodies of joor, though we took it as a mere fantasy. Such unfortunate souls are given the title of Dovahkin, Dragonborn, and it is said that they have power beyond mortal measure. You all know that Dovahzul is the language of the dov, but a single word spoken by a dovah has the potential to carry power upon exiting its mouth. Of course, joor can learn Dovahzul, but only the dovahkiin is able to use what we call the Thu’um! So, priest, are the rumours true? Would you identify yourself as a dovahkiin? Let us taste of your Thu’um if that is the case.” And with that said, he became silent, the whole city now looking at me.

After a few seconds of searching through my memory, I came up with the word that has brought me in this whole mess, and without hesitation, I repeated the word that has interrupted my first preach.

**“FUS!”** I involuntarily shouted, creating a magical wave that moved forward, hitting Alduin in the muzzle. The whole crowd gasped and even some of the other dov, but not Alduin. He broke into a laugh.

“Well then dovahkin, what is your name?” He asked.

“Kohnarik, thuri!” I formally answered, still unsure about the whole situation, my mind filled with so many questions I couldn’t grow the guts to ask.

“Kohnarik, I hereby name you the head of the Dragon Cult. You will be offered the adequate vestments for your new position. And, Paarthurnax, take the dovahkiin under your wing and teach him how to properly use his Thu’um!” Alduin ordered, my heart filling with excitement at the prestige I was offered.

And so, under Paarthurnax’s guidance I learned how to use the Thu’um. He was an excellent and wise teacher, even though he was a little bit cruel with me from time to time. Upon reaching the age of twenty-five, I officially took on my new rank. I was gifted a set of wonderful armour which also functioned as ceremonial robes. It was made out of a meld of gold and ebony and attached to thick black clothing. The armour plating took the form of dragon scales, with various traditional decorations. It consisted of the robes, gauntlets, greaves and a mask. The whole set was similar in shape with the sets of the eighth priests that formed the rank beneath mine, Vokun being one of them. My mask however, was quite different from theirs, thus signalising the higher rank. The most noticeable difference was the two tusks pointing upwards on each side of my mouth. Then, the general shape was different, and it lacked the decorations the others’ masks had. Additionally I got a pendant with the emblem of the cult carved on it and a similar ring and cloak.

Vokun, as well as the other seven dragon priests, proposed me to become a lich as well as them in order to carry on with our ‘ruling’. Liches were known for their immortality as well as for their inborn gift of the mastery of the arcane arts. I, however, refused their offer. A great downside of being a lich is that in case your body is destroyed, your soul will be placed into another. For that to work properly, you need a well preserved body at any time. I found that rather tedious and time consuming, thus I sought out another way to reach the unending, mainly vampirism.

Vampirism is a disease that alters your body structure to the very core of your cells. I, of course, wrote a full journal on this subject, that I researched by autopsying dead vampires. I found out they have small venom satchels beneath their fangs, similar to the way snakes had, and thus I injected myself with the venom of the most powerful vampire I could find and take down. Of course, being a vampire had its drawbacks, but the benefits excelled the side effects. My molecular structure could resist temperatures were a normal human, even a Bron, would have been frozen solid, but instead higher temperatures and direct exposure to the sun had the potential to harm me. Seeing in the dark was never this easy. And I found myself to be quite charismatic and harder to notice. Not to mention the versatility a vampire could have when it comes to blood magic. And the list goes on...

* * *

A few more hours have passed, until the sound of marching and war horns tickled my ears. It seemed like ants were dancing in the blaze painted background, but in truth the ants were ten thousand rebels marching upon the capital of the Dragon Cult. I kept looking as they approached, trying to notice every single detail, every single mistake that I could use to my advantage.

Their armours were forged in the Atmoran style, which offered good protection to the chest, back, shoulders and lower neck leaving the limbs fairly exposed, though that allowed for higher mobility and swordplay. And, knowing that Bron had a lot of impressive shield tactics, not to mention the inherited hardiness due to being born in the coldest climates, which empowered man and beast alike, made me truly appreciate them...or rather us as warriors.

Nevertheless I noticed something quite odd about their army, the lack of everything else but infantry. No siege machines, no chivalry and more important: None of those pesky archers! I was unsure about their plans.

‘If they had some spies or infiltrates, they would have known about this whole ‘runaway’ strategy that I forced upon my subordinates. Yet here they all stand before me. Well, I can’t be a hundred percent sure they were all ten thousand present here.’ Even then, what seemed like the huge majority was standing before me and not before my people.

‘Perhaps they knew about our escape route, but thought that we wouldn’t know about their approach, thus sending a few groups beyond the mountains to cut down any escapees. I can only imagine the looks on their faces when they will meet the whole military power of Bromjunaar backed up by the rest of its citizens.’ My trail of thought brought a wicked grin on my masked face. Ending my little trail of thought I got to work on this little show I prepared for myself.

**“TIID KLO UL!”** I quickly inhaled right after, though not having to be quick about it, seeing as the very fabric of time was bended for a short period of... well, time I suppose.

**“FEIM ZII KRUN!”** My ethereal figure leaped off the wall and ran head first into the enemy. Soon I ‘collided’ with a wave of tissue and metal. Reaching approximately the middle of the enemy army, I began casting. As if out of nowhere, a cruel blizzard formed within the enemy lines. Blocking their vision and slowing down their movement even more than the time-lapse I’ve created has already done. My ethereal link was broken upon releasing the charged spell. I tried not to lose any time.

Knowing that Bron are quite tolerant towards frost magic, I switched to flame instead. Within milliseconds, the blizzard turned to fire. I would silently sit and appreciate the raw power of Yol, were it not for my current position and task. And of course, the agonized screams of the men surrounding me.

**“YOL TOOR SHUL!”** I further ignited the poor bastards standing twenty-five meters in the direction I was facing. Quickly after, I blindly sent dozens of fireballs to my left and right.

**“STURN BAH QO!”** echoed throughout the once snow covered plains, as a heavy rain brought the end of the firestorm. My vision was cleared, and now the sheer progress with the sudden return of the normal flow of time has impressed me beyond measure. I was left surrounded by a thin circle of still standing warriors, but not for long. The circle was breaking apart as lightning started hitting every soldier. I sent some chain-lightning strikes to further enhance the rate at which the circle diminished. The electric charges had a rather nastier effect, after connecting with their wet metal armour, which at several spots wasn’t parted from the skin by a hauberk.

**“LOK WAH KOOR!”** was the last thundering sound that this morn had to hear, as the storm cleared and the sun stood before the mess I’ve created. Thousands of dead scorched bodies surrounded me. ‘What has gotten into them?’ I asked myself as I watched the massacre.

‘Were they really reliant on the sheer power of their Thu’um that they have forgotten even the basics of warfare?’ I started to head back home as the confusion continued to make a mess out of my head. ‘I am full on shocked!’ I didn’t doubt my own power, as that little display required no major effort on my end, even though it felt like it should. ‘Even though I wanted it to do...’

As I climbed, or rather jumped my way up the wall, still lost in a sea of confusion, I started to make my way up the temple steps.

**“Meyz rigir, zeymah! Fin hokron los dilon.“** echoed through the mountains as the sun reached its highest and my throat started to hurt. At the same time, an even mightier roar thundered throughout the whole hold.

“If we keep this whole debate going on, we are for sure going to be deaf!” I whispered to myself. The source of the thundering roar became clear, as a huge flying mass appeared on the horizon. Its pale scales and dark blue horns were the first thing I noticed. I soon recognised the dovah who came nearer and nearer.

It was Sahloknir, one of Alduin’s top lieutenants and a mighty one at that. Paarthurnax informed me about most of the dovah. Sahloknir was known for his weird, yet graceful flying and off ground fighting styles. He landed on the front wall and, with a smug expression, looked me straight in the eyes trough the eyeholes of my mask. There was a deep silence for several minutes. All that could have been heard was the environment and our deep breathing.

‘I wonder if he noticed the foul smell of burned flesh yet.’ I said to myself, making me grin beneath my mask. However, I decided that the silence had to be broken.

“Drem yol lok, Sahloknir! If I knew you would come to visit us, I would have prepared a proper welcoming festival in your honour.” I said, with a hint of sarcasm in my tone.

“Konahrik, could you explain yourself?” He said, not even noticing or wanting to deal with my snarky attitude.

“What do you mean?” I simply replied.

“What has gotten into you to make you scream your lungs out that early in the morning? You woke half the province up! Every being from bird to dov couldn’t rest because of you!”

“Haven’t you noticed the smell in the air?” I asked rather surprised at the fact that he failed to remark the stench. He seemed focused on dealing with me, thus I deduced that he must have been acting on orders. “Bromjunaar was under siege this morn, things could have been quieter were it not for the fact that we found out rather late about the enemy’s plans. I commanded a full retreat while I dealt with the vermin myself. I made sure to show them what kind of power the dov have. You may feast upon their charred corpses if you’d like, though I suppose that ten thousand might be too many for your stomach alone. You should invite some of our brethren while the food is still warm.” I explained. But his reaction was quite hurtful to hear.

“First off: Being dovahkiin doesn’t mean you can simply call us brothers. You are still joor to us! And secondly: Keep in mind that we are keeping an eye on you. With all that has happened with Miraak, we don’t need another dragonborn running wild.”

“You do know that I would never betray you. All I want is to be at least recognised as a lesser dovah. Do I really ask for too much? Miraak wanted to be above you all, he wanted to rule man and dov alike. I only want to be at least tolerated by you.” A normal man would have been incinerated by now if he even tried to have such a discussion with a dovah.

“You are too soft to be a dovah!”

“How can I prove my worth then?” I asked him, starting to lose my patience.

“Foolish joor! You can’t even prove that you can face a dovah head on. Why should we accept you as one of us?” As his words came out, I started to grow tired of our little conversation.

“Well then, how about you prove me wrong!” I said while casting Ebonyflesh and Flame Cloak.

“The snake finally shows its fangs! Very well, I will add your corpse to those ten thousand you’ve slain!” He said while spreading his wings and breaking connection with the ground.

And so I let my anger and jealousy take over me. My heart made me commit the greatest mistake that I taught possible.

**“VULOK LAAK TOOL!”** I shouted as suddenly Secunda orbited in front of the sun causing an eclipse. The faded rays of light bent by the gravitational field of the satellite concentrated in one point, and then came down hitting Sahloknir and making him fall to the ground mere seconds after he first left it, burning his wings in the process and leaving only carbonised limbs in their place. Then, as the sun started to appear again, I sent a barrage of fireballs in at him. After I stopped I could notice blood pouring from beneath his once pale scales. His very image filled my soul with more hate than I could hold. I began charging a Thunderbolt, the sphere of electricity reaching the size of my torso, and then with one last cry, I released it.

**“Diir!”** I said, as I released the electrical nemesis which hit Sahloknir right in the chest further charring the area and bringing him down for good. With his last breath the only thing he could do is use his thu’um for the last time.

**“Dovahkriid!”** He shouted, the sound echoing throughout the whole province, his last word awaking me from my frenzy.

”No...!” I whispered. ”What have I done?” I said in a louder whisper, watching the still laying carcass of a once great heart. And then, his scales lit on fire and evaporated. Soon, I was struck by warm energy coming from what now seemed like a draconic skeleton. I started a violently coughing, meanwhile my feet betrayed me and I fell on my knees, a sick feeling pouring through my stomach and then emerged with my next cough, making me spill blood on the insides of my mask. Though, for some reason, I started feeling stronger.

“What just happened?” I said out loud and, for a second, forgetting about the crime I’ve just committed.

As I stood there weeping Sahloknir’s death, my tears being hidden by my mask, I heard a union of gasps. While looking to my left, I noticed the others at the entrance of the cave they retreated trough. Without thinking it out or even explaining myself, I rushed out of their sights, retreating to my quarters and locking the door behind me. Even though I noticed Morokei with the corner of my eye, I chose to keep on fleeing. He didn’t try to stop me either, probably because of the shocking sight of the corpse of Sahloknir...

After nightfall I found myself sitting on my little throne, shrouded in darkness and depression. The contents of my grand apartment were lost within the black sea that has become my throne room. I couldn’t rest, I couldn’t eat or try and go out to try and solve the mess I’ve gotten myself into. My mind was buried with thoughts and questions. A knock on the door being the only thing that managed to break the trance.

“Konahrik, are you in there?” A deep and calm voice asked. I effortlessly recognised its owner, the voice belonged to Vokun. I, however, choose to keep my mouth shut.

“Why are you even bothering to ask, he could not pass by unnoticed.” A way younger voice said. I deduced it was Krosis, if not for the fact that he was only seventeen, then for the fact that he is the best assassin and infiltrator on Mundus. To put it shortly, he is the one who does all the hiding and seeking around here.

“Konahrik, you have ten seconds to open this damned door before I take it down myself.” A guttural and hardy voice said. If I thought I was aggressive, that’s because I didn’t take Rahgot in consideration. Suddenly his battleaxe literally chopped my door open.

“What happened to the whole: ‘You have ten seconds’ part?” Morokei asked Rahgot as he stepped inside after him, lighting the whole room up with a mere wave of his hand.

“There is no time to lose, you know what will happen if he still stays around.”

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about that.” Hevnoraak said, but before I could even join the discussion I felt a stinging pain in my neck. Afterwards I blacked out. I had no doubt it was one of Hevnoraak’s new concoctions that hit me.

* * *

As my flashback ended I found myself stunned at what had occurred.

‘Why would they seal me away like that, instead of just straight up killing me?’ I said to myself while taking my eyes away from the Magelight and casting my vision upon my sarcophagus. I noticed that I was stripped off my belongings. I was now wearing a black acolyte robes and boots. While they were quite comfortable, I wondered where my armour and accessories were hidden. Most importantly, where did they hide my mask? My vision was caught by the door of this damned crypt. Without anything left to do in here, I wandered outside.

“What?” I loudly asked myself upon bearing the first sight of the outside world. “What happened here?” I continued as I found myself looking at the ruin of what I once called my home. The temple, the streets and some of the districts were deeply buried in snow. A blizzard raging upon the tall city walls, or what was left of them. Parts of the walls and even the rest of the buildings were simply gone. I kept on looking at the ruined city, still not finding the power to believe the scenery that lay before my eyes.

‘I need to find civilisation, most importantly answers and probably something to eat as well.’ I told myself as I started heading south. ‘I remember Rahgot’s temple was in a southern and warmer area than Bromjunaar is. He might probably tell me what happened to the capital of the Dragon Cult, that is, if he would not try to decapitate me the moment we lock eyes with one another... What year is it anyway?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a first time for everything, I suppose. I've already started working on chapter two. Feel free to leave any sort of criticism and also let me know if I missed any typos. I will give some more insights on themes like Vampirism, Dragon Cult, etc. as the story progresses. And do let me know, if you need a Dovahzul dictionary.


	2. Keizaal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon exiting his resting place and noticing the differences, our character starts comparing the old world to the current one, but also his old self to his present one. He has a long and hard journey ahead of him and when dangers are lurking by, how is he going to deal with them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ones who actually waited for an update:  
> 1\. Words cannot express how grateful I am.  
> 2\. Words cannot express how sorry I am. I had enough free time in the past five(?) months, but I simply didn’t feel like working on this. I mostly wasted my time by playing, and play I did. Pro tip: Playing Skyrim on a seven year old laptop should be fine, just don’t install mods! But hey who knew that a pen and some paper would be just as good as Microsoft Word.

After seeing that the caves leading southwards through the mountains have collapsed onto themselves, I had no other choice but to take the northern road around the mountains. As I followed the path, I realised that the image of my surroundings didn’t quite match the image of my memories. I could notice a few changes in the landscape.  


‘Without a doubt, time itself didn’t wait for me to come along, though I wonder how far behind has it really left me,’ I said to myself as nostalgia started to kick in and illustrate an older version of Keizaal.

I remembered the snowy planes before Bromjunaar. Once barely thick enough to leave a footprint into the white carpet that covered up the grassy fields, now even the main road seemed to be buried beneath a thick sheet of snow. Even though I was considerably as tall as an Altmer, the snow still managed to reach halfway to my knee.  


The flora seemed different as well. I could notice the towering pine trees and the vast amount of bushes. ‘It would seem that no one set foot into these forests for decades,’ I deduced while remembering the amount of times we harvested wood from them and replanted saplings where the old ones once rested.

‘It’s a shame to see such good wood not being used or at least tended to,’ I added. In Bromjunaar it was mostly used for carpentry as the entirety of our city was built with and in stone. We also exported some when our relations with the elves were... _stable_ , to say the least. Not that I would personally lead a war against them, they are a fine lot. However, the tension was slowly rising due to the vast amount of casualties that happened as of late. But as of pine trees, the most enjoyable thing about them was the tasty tee you could make out of their needles. ‘I remember-’

***SLAP***

“Snap out of it,” I loudly said as I slapped my face as hard as I could. “No time to get sentimental, we have a task at hand.” I added while starting to regret not having my mask to protect me from myself. “Where could it even be?”

***SLAP***

“Alright, alright!”

I kept on following the road, oblivious to the world around me. My mind, however, was shrouded by thoughts and different scenarios about how and why I ended up in a crypt. ‘Why would they just seal me away like that? Were they acting on orders?’ I giggled. Sometimes I’m just too paranoiac and think that the world is out to get me. ‘But still, they did seem to be in a rush, so…no?’

At this point I could start feeling my heartbeat in my temples. ‘Did they do it to protect me? How was I able to survive all these years without nourishment?’  


‘Actually scratch the last one off the list. Hevnorak’s vile concoctions are able to do more than potentially paralyse the body and mind for a specific amount of time.’ But as we all know: Answering one question only opens up for more.

‘How much time are we exactly talking about? Was my awakening planned for today? Was I even supposed to ever awaken? Did he have like an antidote for the damned thing?

Did he mix ale with his Jarrin Root tea and intended to take some sort of lethal poison instead?’ The questions kept flowing.  
“Alright. Inhale! Exhale!” I did as self-ordered. “Let’s be patient. We are going to ask Rahgot everything. Like what happened that night? How much time has passed since then? What happened to Bromjunaar…?’

‘Bromjunaar! What happened there? Was it abandoned and crumbled because of the passing of time? Did the rebels manage to sack it?’ Sometimes I myself can be baffled by the nonsense that could come out of my mouth. Bromjunaar could not be so simply sacked, nor even sieged. The spring was situated inside the city and flew out of the city through small channels which were blocked with bars. We had enough resources to last us months on end. Archers, battlemages, commanders, infantry, scouts and a petty chivalry were awaiting commands. We had bloody catapults! ‘The only reason I took those idiots down on my own was to not suffer any casualties. Ok, maybe boredom was also a cause. So was the wish to display my power. By Alduin, I should stop!’

“Alduin!” I whispered in surprise. “He or any other dovah would have been able to avenge Sahloknir by ravaging the city in my absence.” My mood dropped even lower as I remembered what I did.

‘Oh, poor Sahloknir! I’ve left my anger get the better of me again’ I stood there questioning why my might and my rationality were eclipsed by my emotions. I tried to summon magic into my hands, wishing to stare at the source of this whole mess. But, to my surprise, nothing happened. I tried bringing forth any spell and incantation I could think of. Again and again… nothing happened. As I got down to the most basic spells a spark ignited in my hands and, soon after, the magicka took the aspect of fire. What a bittersweet moment! On one hand -literally speaking- I wasn’t able to invoke the most spells of my once vast arcane arsenal. But on the other hand, even the puniest spark of flame ignited my heart with hope. 

The expression: ‘Practice makes perfect!’ fully applies to mages. If you keep on exercising, you increase the potential of your spells. But if one is to surpass a vast majority of time without casting anything, their magical aptitudes could be greatly diminished or even nullified. You could also call it arcane muscle memory. Nevertheless, I was anxious to cast it. I positioned myself and cast forth two barrages of flames from my hands. At the moment, the feeling resembled one of Hevnorak’s painkillers. But the feeling was soon replaced by mental exhaustion, as the flames stopped pouring out before the road was even relieved of the thick sheet of snow that was covering it.

“What?” I muttered. “Oh, that bastard!” I added. To put it simply, Morokei had the bad habit of converting his enemies’ aptitude to hold vast amounts of magicka into his. Other explanation than that would not be possible. And this deduction only served to shroud my head in even more questions. But, after numerous scenarios, I’ve come to the conclusion that he did it to protect me, be it from Alduin or from the rebels. A good enough mage could sense and distinguish large amounts of magicka. And that was quite neat of him to do seeing as they felt the need of burring me beneath everyone’s noses.

‘Very well! Let’s sum everything up. I am in the middle of the wilderness. Not knowing when. Confused. DEFENCELESS!’ A pause. ‘I suppose it could be worse.’

“Hand over your valuables or this one will gut you like a fish!” I suddenly heard from behind me.

‘Oh great! Speak of the devil,’ I thought to myself as I started to slowly and carefully turn around.

The image before my eyes was… _exotic_ , to say the least. A humanoid with feline features stood before me - or rather under my nose. He was wearing thick furs, besides the ones of his own. He held his dagger close to my neck, though I didn’t suppose he could stay with his arm stretched like that for too long. ‘I’ve read about and also seen depictions of them, but never seen one personally. Could this be one of the so called cat-folk of Kaasendaar -of Elsweyr. Khajiit, I believe they were called.’

“Didn’t you hear Khajiit? Give this one your valuables and you may live,” he repeated while rising his dagger up to the point where it gently touched my neck. At this point his entire arm started shaking. I suppose he couldn’t hold it in this unbearable position any longer.

“Does it look like I have anything worth your while in my possession?” I responded while leaning backwards and gesturing at my body, which caused him to lower his arm and have a better look at my ragged attire.

“Now that you mention it, no!” I was still somewhat amused by his tone. “But Khajiit cannot let you inform the guards about this one,” he said while regaining an offensive position. This time, however, he chose to keep his butter knife at the level of his waist. ‘Honeyed words and promises won’t work on _‘this one’_ ,’ I thought while trying not to lose my composure at the remark.

“Very well, then!” I said while locking eyes with him and giving him a smile that highlighted my fangs. This, however, did not seem to have the desired effect.

“Khajiit has fangs as well!” he said while showing me his. At this point, I could do nothing but give in to the laughter I’ve so desperately tried to hold in.  


In the blink of an eye he charged at me. Luckily enough, I’ve regained myself and stepped to the side at the last second. Everything seemed to move so slow. I’ve barely evaded a devastating thrust directed at the lower abdominal region. I gripped the cat’s right wrist with my right hand and pulled him in the same direction of the thrust, thus propulsing him in that direction. At the same time, I’ve aligned my left elbow with his head. The result: A powerful blow to his nose… _or muzzle_.

Soon after my elbow met his face, I’ve left him to fall into the snow. I think I even heard a cracking sound after that. I didn’t even need to physically check for a pulse. I could sense that his heart stopped beating.

Most vampires are weak willed when it comes to blood. The mere scent of it has the potential to deafen one’s mind and turn them into feral beast until their thirst is satiated. I’ve had this feeling plenty of times in my first years spent as a vampire. Just the mere memory of the torment I inflicted on myself. ‘Ah!’

After my countless feedings, I decided I had to change something. Searching for victims or potential donators was starting to be as big a nuisance as making sure I had a vessel at all times, if I had chosen lichdom instead of vampirism.

* * *

  
And so, while full of determination and with little to no persuasion, I made Hevnoraak clear up one of his torture chambers for me. After he literally blocked my vision with the amount of chains he used to seal the cage, I started my meditation.

A dovah doesn’t easily let go of habits, let alone a vampire. Being the both combined only made it more difficult. ‘Why?’ one might ask. Well the dov and vampires have quite a lot of similarities when it comes to sadism and domination- ugh, not in the sexual sense…or actually... Both have a tendency to excel in being nothing more but vile and cold hearted rulers, if given the chance.

For weeks on end, the only noises coming from my cage were scrams of agony and threats of bathing in ‘poor’ Hevnoraak’s blood, if none decided to unbind my shackles.  


The pure desire even made me forget who I was, though that was for the greater good. I don’t think any enchantments one could lay on a cage could withstand the power of my thu’um. 

After forcing my voice to the point where my throat was bleeding and my lungs felt hotter than Oblivion, I smiled and fell to my knees.  
I’ve successfully forced my anger out to the point where I could finally use whatever energy I had left to focus. However, the anger rebuilt after mere seconds.

‘The pride of a dovah is both his greatest tool as well as his greatest weakness. How could I call myself dovahkiin, if a puny feral impulse is able to take over me? How could I consider Akatosh and Molag my equal fathers, when I am so easily persuaded by the gift of only one of them? How could either of them call me their son, if they saw my disgraceful poise? Why am I caged and kneeling because of one simple pleasure? Throughout history none has ever heard of a submissive dovah, I won’t be the first. Equilibrium must be restored. I am better… _zu’u los pruzaan_!’

**“FUS! RO! DAH!”**

And with that all chains have shattered and the door slammed into the nearest wall and sprang back in my direction only for it to fall before my feet.  
In the corner Hevnoraak was sitting on a chair cross-legged while savouring his favourite Jarrin Root tea.

“Better?” he asked without a glint of surprise in his voice.

I glared at him for a good moment, though he didn’t seem to care too much about it.

“Yeah!” I said.

He took his dagger off the table and made his way towards me. He stopped a good meter in front of me and looked me in the eyes. A moment later he slit his wrist and raised it in front of my mouth. I kept on starring into his eyes, fully aware of what he was trying to accomplish. Or at least so I have thought…

“Even if I would have failed, I would have known better than to drink yours.”

“It would seem you are still sane.” he said while smirking at me. 

I once thought that I could never hate a man his age, but his snarky attitude made it impossible for me not to wish him dead. Yet, given everything, he was still a smart man. I suppose I could’ve appreciated that at least.

* * *

  
So knowing all of that, it is important to know that it was not desire that drew me closer to the dead cat, but interest. As my mouth aligned with his neck, I stood and thought it over.

‘Is this even ethically acceptable?’ I’ve asked my inner self. ‘Khajiit are half-cat half-human. This may go against my already odd vegetarian policy, but I don’t want to pass the opportunity.’

“Why not?” I said aloud and punctured his jugular vein. Soon after I found myself deafened by the sweetness of his blood and with utmost great effort I forced myself away from him.

‘This only raises so many questions.’ I acknowledged while trying to forget about the deafening honey-sweet taste.

After I’ve calmed myself I started searching through his belongings. ‘It’s not like he is going to need them anymore. They may come in handy in my case though.’

I found a small brown satchel filled with gold coins. I took a look at the portrayed person.

It was a neatly bearded man with fair eyebrows, strong jaw, thick neck and short hair. He looked like a Nord, and a noble one at that. The text around his portrait cited: “THE EMPIRE IS LAW” and “THE LAW IS SACRED”.

“Empire?” I asked aloud, though not willing to.

After turning it around my heart skipped a beat as I noticed an emblem that portrayed a dragon. The text around the depiction cited: “PRAISE BE AKATOSH” and “AND ALL THE DIVINES”.

‘Good to see they’ve kept the religion, but why did they choose Akatosh over Alduin is still a mystery.’  
Theologically speaking they are one and the same, but in reality, Alduin is the firstborn of Akatosh and was granted a place in the so to say ‘family business’ as birthright. While Akatosh was time itself, Alduin was charged with the end of time. The meaning of that was overly debated by the higher-ups of the Dragon Cult. But whether it meant that Alduin will eventually put an end to Akatosh or that he was simply supposed to clear things up after time was supposed to end is where we had difficulties. I personally think that the second version is more plausible due to his name. 

Dragons’ names are traditionally composed out of three words which act as syllables, similar to the Thu’um. **Alduin** was composed of **Al** , **du** and **in**. **Al** means to destroy, **du** is to devour, and **in** meant master, hence why the rebels preferred calling him The World Eater.

I’ve left any further questions aside and decided to keep on searching. I’ve taken the cat’s dagger and strapped it to my belt. He also had a belt satchel where he probably carried some food. However, all I could discover were some bread-crumbs an empty purple phial…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I could actually post the third chapter next week as a way of redeeming myself. I already have written half of it. "Where is all this motivation coming from?" you may ask. Well a friend of mine invited me to write on some sort of RPG story site with her and some of her friends. They thought that telling me the rules as we go was the best way to go about it. It became somewhat cancerous and I peaced off. Which told me that going solo was the best for now. Now back to this story. For the love of whatever you believe in, give me some feedback! For the last chapter I got like 6 kudos, which was amazing, but some comments would be appreciated. "That's all, folks!"  
> EDIT: Alright, make that two weeks. Sorry boys.


	3. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a delayed journey and a new task at hand, our character is thrown into a conflict he didn’t ask for. Still, there are promised answers at stake. And when choices show up, will he make the right call?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yer olde Skyrim intro you’ve all grown to hate, but with a little bit more spice. Taking a look at the pace at which this story is progressing, I’ve come to realise that it is probably going to be as big as the Monahven. But we’ve got “Plenty of time, my dear! Plenty of time!” But in all due seriousness, half of this chapter was done before I even posted the previous one and it still took me ‘2 weeks’ to complete. I wish I could say the same for the next one. XD

With a blurry vision, I managed to awake at the sound of carriage wheels rolling on a paved road alongside with horse trots and clanking armour. Nothing could compare with the smell of pine wood in the morning air.

 

As my vision started to adapt, I could make out the image of trees and stone formations passing me by – or much rather the other way around.

 

I came back to my senses and noticed that I was lying on the sit of a carriage in a rather uncomfortable position. While repositioning myself with a groan and without the ability of using my hands, my eyes caught a glimpse of the carriage driver. He wore a poor excuse of a scout’s armour, which mostly consisted of leather with some weak mail here and there. His olive skin was something I have never seen before, even darker than an outside worker from the southern, warmer regions of Skyrim. But what mostly caught my attention was the dragon shaped emblem on his red cloak, similar with the one I’ve seen on the golden coin.

 

With a shiver, I started examining dozens of different scenarios, but I’ve retaken control, assuring myself that all of my questions will be answered.

 

My head moved away from the carriage driver and in the direction of the other passengers. I locked eyes with a blonde Bron, dressed in mail, plate and bear furs.

 

“Hey you! You are finally awake,” he exclaimed. “You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked into that Imperial ambush, same as us…and that thief over there!”

 

“Bord-“ I was about to ask, but was rudely interrupted by the man to his left.

 

“Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell,” were the words of a skinny man in rags. He looked like he’s gotten quite a beating. Maybe they managed to throw him off said horse. He was a Nord, reddish-brown hair, blackened eyes and busted lip…nothing unexpected.

 

He seemed to have noticed my attention, for he added:”You there. You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

 

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief,” the blonde Nord pointed out. I looked down at my cuffed hands, fully oblivious towards the driver’s attempt at shushing us.

 

“And what’s wrong with him, huh?” the thief said as he looked to the person next to me. Nord, wearing expensive looking bear furs and plate armour - ‘A noble perhaps?’ – bound as we were, but also silenced by a cloth in his mouth. Before I could make any more thoughts on the man, the previous blonde Nord added with a furious tone:”Watch your tongue. You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

 

Luckily for me, no one seemed to remark my semi-confused semi-disgusted facial expression. ‘A High King?’ I asked myself. ‘When? Where?’

 

I sighed on the inside. ‘Why even bother? Just let them do their back and forth, throwing their absurdities in the wind. Maybe they’ll start to make sense,’ I thought as I started watching the parade before my eyes.

 

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you…Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

 

‘Rebellion?’ I asked myself after hearing the thief’s whining.

 

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.” Upon hearing the blonde’s reply, all I could do was hope that all the nonsense I’ve been hearing the last minutes would make more sense than this dreaded expression. For when a Nord speaks of Sovngarde awaiting, what hopefully ought to mean was that death is around the corner. But the saddened tone in which those words left his lips served only to crush my hopes. If that wasn’t clear enough, then the redhead’s whining reinforced them.

 

“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening!”

 

“Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?” asked the blue mantled Nord.

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home,” he continued. ‘Is he serious? Is he really accepting his death?’ I thought not even willing to consider remembering about the ruins that I once called home.

 

“Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead,” the thief responded and they both went silent.

 

Now that the distraction was over, I was able to study my surroundings. We were near the Monahven, in a carriage, descending. It was morning, the sun managed to fully rise while the two had their little chatter. Nothing could compare with the scent of pine in the cold mourn air. Behind our carriage were a few soldiers on horses, all wearing similar vestments with the carriage driver’s, except for the one leading them. Reddish-brown hair like the horse thief’s, clean, with a riding poise that radiated with discipline.

 

His plate armour was of a pale steel, baring the symbol of the so called Empire. We locked eyes for a few seconds until I turned my head to the other side, wishing to regard what lay in the direction of our movement. My answer: More horse-riding soldiers, another carriage – this one full of the so called Stormcloaks – and also an elderly man leading this whole death’s parade. However, I could not further describe his features from this far back.

 

The sight of an approaching village seemed to be where we were headed. As we drew nearer and nearer, I could notice that the stone wall surrounding the village acted as a platform for the guards to patrol on – similar to what we had in Bromjunaar. The wall was covered with wooden pillars sustaining a roof which protected the guards from the environment and – divines forbid – arrow showers. The main gate – which was part of the platform – opened at the orders of a guard situated on top of it. He also saluted the man leading us:”General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!”

 

“Good. Let’s get this over with,” he responded.

 

At this point I could notice a sorrowful expression on Ulfric and his subordinate’s faces, I was pretty nervous, but the horse thief literally started crying. “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!”

 

The Stormcloak soldier in our carriage became all of a sudden angry. “Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him…” he said while looking towards the General, who seemed to have stopped near the main gate to talk with some horse-riding Altmer. “…Damn elves! I bet they had something to do with this,” he continued.

 

“This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” I could do nothing but give a small smile to his remark which didn’t last too long for he went grim again. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

 

We passed some alleys until we’ve reached an opening. “Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?” I could hear a child ask behind me. “You need to go inside, little cub,” answered his father. “Why? I want to watch the soldiers,” the child replied. “Inside the house. Now!” his father told him with a more serious tone. “Yes, papa!”

 

I could see a bulky headsman and a priestess heading towards the block. The general seemed to have finished his chatter with the elves and made his way there. The carriages came to a halt in front of a wall while the Imperial soldier from behind us was standing next to a female officer.

 

“Why are we stopping?” the thief asked while I was wondering if he really was that dumb. “Why do you think? End of the line,” said the blonde Nord. He then turned to me, and with a more compassionate smile, he said: “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

 

“No! Wait! We are not rebels!” protested the thief while we were starting to get off the carriage. The blonde replied with: “Face your death with some courage, thief!” I, however, did not know how to interpret this. Did he simply say it out of annoyance or was he really not going to testify in our favour. The thief might have thought the same, for he added: “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” To which he didn’t reply.

 

“Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time,” said the officer once all of our feet were on the ground. The blonde seemed to be sour. “Empire loves their damned lists,” he grunted.

 

The red-headed soldier stood next to the officer with a list in his hand. “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” As the Jarl made his way towards the block, his blonde subordinate said: “It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric!”

 

“Ralof of Riverwood,” was called next, and the blonde stepped towards the block. On his way he glared at the Imperial soldier, who tried his best not to glare back. ‘Perhaps they know each other,’ I thought.

 

“Lokir of Rorikstead,” was next and I presumed it was the horse thief. My presumption was confirmed when he said: “No, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” and he made a run for it. “Halt!” ordered the officer, but in his foolishness he said back: “You’re not going to kill me!”

 

“Archers!” barked the officer with a mouthful of anger. Merely seconds after the order was given, three archers fired at Lokir and brought him down. The officer turned to the rest of us and barked: “Anyone else feels like running?”

 

After a few seconds of silence, the soldier in charge of the other carriage continued naming the rebels. Soon after, the red-head in charge of ours saw me and said: “Wait. You there. Step forward.” I followed his command. “Who are you?” he asked with a confused tone.

 

“Konahrik of Bromjunaar,” I said. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

“K-o-n-a-h-r-i-k of B-r-o-m-j-u-n-a-a-r,” I spelled out. “I have never heard of such a name or such a place,” he said. “Bromjunaar is a small tribe about 600km away from the shore. We are of an ancient Nordic heritage,” I explained and he nodded. While that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Not that I’d know any better since my answer was formed out of assumptions.

 

“Capitan. What should we do? He’s not on the list,” he reported to the woman. “Forget the list. He goes to the block,” she said. “By your orders, Capitan. Follow the Capitan, prisoner,” he said to which I was taken aback. ‘Alright! Empire…well trained…well educated…disciplined…abuse of power. DIPLOMACY, NOW!’ I ordered in my head as I started to panic on the inside.

 

“With all due respect, Capitan. I do not understand why is it that I have to go to the block,” I added as carefully as possible.

 

“Don’t think you can barter with me like I’m one of those damned shopkeepers. You’re a Stormcloak!” she said.

 

“I beg your pardon! How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even wear their armour! Even worse, I am dressed in dusty rags.” I replied.

 

“Don’t think your honeyed words are going to work on me. To the block! NOW!” she barked back at me and I admitted defeat. I went next to Ralof and looked at him. ‘Why didn’t he say anything?’

 

“Ulfric Stormcloak!” exclaimed the General. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne,” he continued, to which Ulfric could only respond with muffled grunts. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace,” he continued. He was about to say something else when a mighty roar echoed through the mountains.

 

“What was that?” asked the red-headed soldier. “It’s nothing. Carry on,” said Tullius. “Yes, General Tullius,” said the Capitan and turned towards the priestess. “Give them their last rites.”

 

The priestess raised her hands and started saying: “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of The Eight Divines upon you-“

 

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with!” said a red-headed Stormcloak while stepping towards the block. “As you wish,” replied the priestess after being rudely interrupted. “Come on, I haven’t got all morning,” he said after placing his head on the block. The Captain laid her foot on his back and pressed it to straighten it. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” were his last words as the headsman’s axe descended on his neck.

 

After the disgusted protests of some Stormcloaks and Imperial-sided replies of the citizens, the Captain said: “Next the Nord in the rags!” while giving me a detesting look. Meanwhile, the mighty roar could be heard again.

 

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” asked the Imperial soldier. “I said, next prisoner!” The soldier admitted defeat and said: “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

 

Despite the sea of emotions that I had to sail since my awakening, I stepped towards the block, not willing to deal any further with all this confusion. I assumed the same position as the other Stormcloak, looking at the headsman as he got on position. Meanwhile, another roar could be heard and I caught a glimpse of a black mass flying behind a tower.

 

“What in Oblivion is that?” asked Tullius with a panicked tone. “Sentries! What do you see?” demanded the Capitan from a man situated on the tower. “It’s in the clouds!” was all he could say before the mass landed on him. Leathered wings…covered with black jagged scales…with a facial expression that could kill a man just by looking at it. Fear suddenly took over me as I realised who that was. Alduin! He let out another mighty roar and the sky turned to fire, meteors raining over the city and then he took to the skies.

 

“Hey, kinsman! Get up. Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance,” I heard Ralof scream from behind as I’ve finally come to my senses and got up. I followed him into the nearest tower, fully oblivious to the chaos around us and he closed the door behind me. “Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?” he asked the man who was kneeling next to some injured Stormcloaks. “Legends don’t burn down villages,” he replied. Suddenly the door was hit by a meteor, breaking it and igniting the wood. “We need to move. Now!” said the Jarl.

 

“Up through the tower, let’s go!” said Ralof as he started ascending the stairs. I followed him up to the first floor where a soldier was trying to move some stones blocking the way. “We just need to mov-“ he was trying to say but the wall suddenly burst open burying him in the debris. Alduin’s head poked through the gap and he shouted.

 

**“Yol! Toor! Shul!”**

 

I took a few steps back as the heat was unbearable. Luckily for us, the flame barrage only landed on the buried soldier. Soon after, he took back to the skies. Ralof went to the gap and called me next to him. He pointed to a building with a hole in the roof.

 

“See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We’ll follow when we can!” I did as ordered, though I should have taken a moment to think about it after I fell through the carbonized floor down to the ground floor. After a few seconds I got up, unable to bear the heat any further, and made my way out of the inn.

 

The first thing I saw was an elderly man taking cover behind a house and the same Imperial soldier from before. He stood out in the open motioning a child to come to him. The child stood next to an injured man. They may have been the ones I’ve overheard during my carriage ride.

 

“Haming, you need to get over here. Now!” he said. I could see that his father told him to go. The child and I made our way towards them. “Thorold!” the soldier tried to make his way towards him but quickly came to take cover as Alduin landed behind the fallen man. “Gods…Everyone get back!” he said as he came to us. Soon after we could see Alduin’s flame going as far away as where the inn was. The soldier turned to me.

 

“Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” He said and then he turned towards the other two. “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defence.”

 

“Gods guide you, Hadvar,” were Gunnar’s parting words. ‘Hadvar…’ I tested his name in my mind while following him into a narrow pathway. “Stay close to the wall,” he said. Soon after Alduin landed on the wall and sent flames towards a building, not noticing us hiding beneath his wings.

 

After he took back to the skies, I continued following Hadvar through debris and carbonized buildings until we came near one entrance where Tullius, some archers and some battle mages were trying to combat Alduin’s attack. He turned his head towards us. “Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!” he ordered just as he dodged a meteor.

 

“It’s you and me, prisoner. Stay close!” Hadvar said and I followed his lead through an archway and towards the keep. Meanwhile the blonde Stormcloak somehow managed to make it to the keep as well. “Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!” barked Hadvar towards the Nord.

 

“We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time,” was Ralof’s response. “Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde,” said Hadvar.

 

“Soldier! What are you doing? Kill those rebels!” I could hear from behind Ralof. Hadvar and I turned our heads towards the source, Ralof did the same but I believe he was just as disappointed as I when he saw the Captain charging in our direction. He quickly stepped towards us while keeping his eyes on both the woman and Hadvar. Hadvar also backed in the direction of his Captain.

 

“Crawl back to your ditch, you filth!” she said as she stopped next to Hadvar. “Well isn’t she a charming one!” murmured Ralof as he raised his axe. The tension quickly grew as both our parties were about to clash until the ground shook, forcing all of us on our fours. I tried to get up as quick as possible, but the sight before me made me wish I chose to play dead. Alduin parted the four of us, yet his attention seemed to be focused on an archer up the keep’s tower. I felt a pair of hands pulling my body upwards. “You! Come on, into the keep,” said Ralof and once I was on my feet I followed him, slamming the door behind us.

 

I quickly came to regret my decision for that managed to catch Alduin’s attention. He set the door ablaze and continually slammed his tail into the tower. But to our luck, he stopped, probably wishing to focus on the rest of the archers. On the other hand, my attention managed to get lost until Ralof spoke to me.

 

“Come here, let me get those bindings off,” he said, forcing me to regard my shackled hands. “Hm, I figured something was out of order,” I dumbly pointed out after what felt like aeons of not being part of a conversation and leading every command I’ve received.

 

After Ralof cut off my bindings he made his way towards the corpse of a Stormcloak soldier lying in a pool of blood, his left leg appearing to have been mawed off. “Poor kinsman,” Ralof commented. “See if any of his belongings are of any use to you, he won’t need them anymore, I’ll try to figure out how to get this door opened,” he said while kneeing in front of an iron bared door and fiddling with its lock.

 

The fallen soldier didn’t really have too much on him. All I could use was his axe. Everything else was just too small to fit me. I took a look at it, reminding me of my training sessions with Rahgot.

* * *

 

“By Shor, you’re awful laddy!” he said after he managed to throw me on the ground for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last hour.

 

“I can’t work with this damned thing,” I told him. “I either prefer swords, maces or polearms. Axes should have remained tools.”

 

“Weapons ar’ tools too, ye bastard! Just because they have different uses, they are still there to make yer work easier. Now, raise that damned shield higher and try to time yer attacks,” he said while instantly regaining his battle poise. I did as ordered.

 

After a few more exchanges where I managed to block his attacks and quickly follow with some of my own, his axe grappled my own and ripped it out of my hand. “This is a neat trick that other weapons have a harder time doing,” he said with pride while making a show out of my poor skills.

* * *

 

I looked around, no shield to be seen. I relied too much on having one during my training. “Damn it!” I heard Ralof curse from behind me after I gave the axe a few swings, trying to accommodate to it. “I can’t get this blasted door opened.”

 

I got closer to him, noticing a few broken lockpics lying on the floor. “Is there a way to break it?” I asked. “It looks pretty sturdy, wait what was that?”

 

“What?” I asked, but he shushed me pretty quickly while pointing towards a wooden gate. We could hear two voices coming from the hallway and also see shadows being cast on the walls. “They sound like Imperials. Hide on the other side of the gate and when they come through, flank them!” Ralof whispered into my ear as he started making his way toward one side of the gate.

 

Soon enough we heard clinking sounds and heavy footsteps. “Get that gate open!” ordered one of them. Ralof and I gave each other disgusted looks, the voice belonged to the blasted Captain. Soon enough the gate bars were raised and she and Hadvar walked through the gateway.

 

“Death to the Empire!” shouted Ralof as he charged in. I followed soon after, but that whore and Hadvar drew their weapons in a blink of an eye and parried our attacks. Ralof and the Captain went on while I backed away from Hadvar, giving him a look that expressed my intention of not wanting to fight him.

 

Meanwhile a loud thud could be heard. With the corner of my eye I spotted Ralof lying on the ground. The Captain then turned to me and ordered. “Disengage soldier! This one is mine.”

 

I got on position, though fighting a seasoned warrior wasn’t going to be that easy, especially not while being as under geared as I was. “Hadvar, do you mind borrowing me your sword?” It was worth the try. He looked over to his superior who just nodded. I threw the axe to the side and took his blade. “Ready?” The Captain had the decency to ask.

 

“Yes ma’am!”

 

“Let’s see what you’re made of!” she screamed as she advanced on me, delivering quick and powerful strikes while making me step backwards. I parried as quickly as I could while also keeping an eye on my surroundings. She was preparing a trust while I sidestepped, fully aware of the fact that she drove my back to a wall. I took a few steps back and assumed the fool’s guard.

 

My chest was exposed and my anchoring abysmal. However, no matter how many years did she spent fighting; this unorthodox manoeuvre is briefly mentioned and practicing it on the battlefield is frowned upon. She took the bait trying to stab me in the chest. With inhuman speed I slapped the sword out of her hand with mine and took a step forward while turning my blade around and going for an horizontal cut to her throat. However, I did not take in consideration the height difference between us and I struck her nose. The strike was partly blocked by her nose-guard. I did manage to cut into her skin and draw some blood, but this was not that type of a duel.

 

I brought the blade to my mouth and tasted her. She had quite an olivy and spicy aroma. She gave me a disgusted look and I couldn’t help but smile. Though, in a moment of courage she grabbed me by my sides, lifted me and slammed me on the floor. My sword fell out of my hand and she threw herself over me. I tried to react as quickly as I could but her fist has met my face before I could do anything.

 

I managed to block her other strike and I caught her by the wrists. I pushed her to the side and climbed over her. I’ve kneeled over her shoulders and started punching her in the face while wondering how a duel could have been reduced to something that looked like a tavern brawl. It was quite a bad time to be lost in thoughts because she spitted blood into my eyes and somehow got around to kicking me in the back of my head propelling it in the nearby wall.

 

I got on my feet as soon as I could, but she was already trying to grapple me. I stood my ground and tried to grapple her in return. I suppose Hadvar must have been having a good laugh at that sight as it looked more like scenes from one of Sanguine’s orgies.

 

While literally hugging that devil of a woman, I jumped over her making us both meet the ground again. My arms, however, were still under her at the time of the impact. She head butted me until she could push me to the side. She then stood back up and tried to retrieve her sword. I followed soon after, picking up the chair next to me and throwing it at her. She staggered, but it still wasn’t enough to bring her down. The table followed soon after. She fell head first into a wall. While looking for the nearest object to use against her, I couldn’t find anything but that Stormcloak soldier’s corpse. I grabbed it by the ankles and made my way towards the Captain. Hadvar started coming my way but was soon greeted by my unorthodox weapon. I stood focused on him, not keeping an eye on the fallen Captain.

 

“I said you’re dismissed, soldier!” We heard the Captain say as she threw a sword my way which I managed to catch after letting go of the corpse. She had her own sword ready and her helmet was missing. Her brown wavy hair made me jealous for a second before I could reassume my position. Hadvar took a few steps back again.

 

“Let’s go!” she shouted while pressing the attack on me. I got back to parrying while counterattacking whenever possible. I somehow felt more confident than at the beginning; however that hasn’t stopped any of us from scoring small cuts on each other.

 

After a while, our tempo started decreasing and soon enough, our strikes got slower and more predictable. She raised her sword one last time and I brought mine into a high-guard. Her strike came down and I caught it with the tip of my blade letting hers slide off to the side while mine was up and ready for a fatal strike to her neck. She moved to the side, but my strike still managed to cut her jugular vein.

 

Blood started pouring down her neck, but she didn’t seem to notice it. She regained her composure and pressed on; her blade meeting my left shoulder but the edge alignment was too poor, she ended up hitting me with the flat of her sword which still had enough power in it to make me stagger. It was then that I drove my sword through her neck.

 

She fell to the floor but not before she could mutter her parting words out.

 

“Worthy opponent!”

 

“Worthy opponent!” I repeated while watching the spark of her eyes die out.

 

I looked over at Hadvar and handed him his sword back. “Thank you! And…I’m sorry for her.”

 

He couldn’t hide the regret in his eyes. “Don’t! It was her choice.”

 

“Are we on the same side or should I defend myself?” I asked, concerned about how this is all supposed to play out.

 

“I believe you. You can’t possibly be on the same side with these damned traitors,” he said while gesturing to the fallen Stormcloak. “Wait! Where is Ralof?”

 

I looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. “Weren’t you keeping an eye out?” I asked. I noticed that the iron door from a while ago was now opened.

 

“My bad!” he said while offering me his hand. I didn’t even notice that I was lying down next to the Captain. I politely took his hand and got up, taking a few seconds to shake it afterwards. I grabbed the Captain’s sword and her belt and strapped it to my attire. “I suppose there is only one safe way out of here,” I said.

 

“Well, let’s not waste any time then. I don’t want to stay and wait for that dragon to bring the keep down on us,” he said as he started making his way through the door. I followed him soon after.

 

“Hadvar?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could you explain to me what has happened between these two factions of yours?” I curiously asked while also wanting to make him socialise with me.

 

“Well how much do you know already?”

 

“I never heard of either one.” He gave me a surprised look, not wishing to point out the lack of awareness of my supposed _‘tribe’_.

 

“South of Skyrim, there is a province called Cyrodiil. It was the capital of the Empire for a few eras now. The founder and also first Emperor united all of Tamriel under his rule. He was a Nord who was given the name of Tiber Septim upon taking his new position. But, to the Nords he still remained Talos Stormcrown. It is said that once he died, he ascended to divinity and was considered a god ever since. But that wasn’t so appealing to the Altmer. A new government took over the Summerset Isles. Well, not that new, the Aldmeri Dominion had its presence on the lead of Summerset before, but due to the religious scandal they gained more and more popularity. They convinced the Bosmer of Valenwood to join them and somehow managed to get the Khajiit of Elsweyr on their side too.” He explained as we descended into a large hallway, that’s when the ceiling collapsed and fell right in front of us, blocking the way. We were lucky not to be squashed in the process. “That was close,” I said.

 

“Yeah! Let’s see if this door can lead us anywhere,” he said and advanced towards the door on our left. As we were about to enter, we were ambushed by two Stormcloak soldiers. We were smart enough to remain on our side of the doorway. We took a few steps behind and drew our weapons. The first one charged trough with a warhammer in his hands. I stepped in and took hold of his polearm while Hadvar moved to the side and chopped into the back of his neck. His carelessness left his friend into a two on one situation.

 

Realising that the odds were against him, the Stormcloak dropped his greatsword and tried to make a run for it. Thankfully, I grabbed a hold of him just as he took the corner. While Hadvar couldn’t see us, I pierced his jugular with my fangs and quenched my thirst with his blood, though water would have been more desirable. I left him fall to the floor with the puncture marks facing downwards.

 

Hadvar came around just at that exact moment, giving me a horrified look. “Did you really have to strangle him?”

 

“Who knows how many of them made it into the keep? The first one died pretty silently, I couldn’t just let the second one use his last breath to reveal our presence,” I argued.

 

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “This appears to be an old storeroom. See if you find anything of use. By that I mean food, medicine…that sort of stuff. The one outside seemed to match your size, see if he has anything of use to you. I’ll check the barrels over there and put everything on that table.”

 

“Got it!” I said as I started making my way towards the corpse. My search was brief, though I was lucky to find that his boots fitted me quite nicely, and were more comfortable than what the passing of time made of those Acolyte’s shoes, which reminded me…

 

“So, the Aldmeri Dominion?” I asked as I walked back into the storeroom and picking up the greatsword on the ground.

 

“Back in 171 the Emperor received an ultimatum from the Dominion. He was outraged by it and that marked the beginning of The Great War, which is a whole other story. Both sides suffered major loses, and the imperial capital was sacked. Even though we managed to recapture it at the end, the Emperor decided to sign a treaty with the Dominion to probably avoid further damage. We accepted the conditions of the elves, which included outlawing the worship of Talos. Due to Talos being a Nordic hero, that has caused turmoil here in Skyrim. Ulfric became the Jarl of Windhelm once his father passed away, and has always used the outlaw of Talos to rally his men against the Empire, though he didn’t get that much attention. So a few months back he murdered the High King, that’s what got the Empire’s attention,” he explained as we laid down provisions on a table.

 

We ended up with a bunch of bandages, three small phials of medical brews, a small phial of magika potion, a small phial of stamina potion, a wine bottle, two filled waterskins, several salted meat chops, two whole loafs of bread, about 70 gold coins and a large sack to stuff them all into.

 

“So, how did he kill the high king?” I asked before taking a few chugs out of a waterskin.

 

“He pretty much walked into his palace and challenged him to a duel, which he had no other choice but to accept. Ulfric fought in the Great War, whereas Torygg was just a boy. But Ulfric...” his expression turned even grimmer during that pause. “Ulfric simply shouted him to death.”

 

I suppose I left my feelings play with my face muscles, for Hadvar gave me a concerned look. I started packing our provisions into the sack while making numerous scenarios in my head. The empire was here for centuries, Ulfric was the leader of this so called Stormcloak Rebellion and he could shout whereas the one on the side of the dragon could not. ‘Even with this supposed time gap, these are just coincidences, right? In my times only rebels somehow learned to use the Thu’um while the few ones which remained loyal to the Cult didn’t have the privilege to learn how. It may be the old case that history never changes, just the ones who make it do. But the similarities are just deafening…’

 

“Is everything alright?” Hadvar asked while laying his hand on my shoulder.

 

“Yeah!” I answered while strapping the sack on my back. “We should probably get going.”

 

“Yeah!” he said and made his way towards the second door, which conveniently led us to the other side of the hallway. We kept following the way, until we heard the sound of clashing blades. We drew ours and quickly made our way to their source. “A torture chamber. Gods, I wish we didn’t need these.”

 

We took the corner and were greeted by the sight of three Stormcloaks fighting two Imperials. Luckily enough, their backs were turned on us and we managed to take one out before the other two noticed our presence. A four versus two situation, but the remaining Stormcloaks did not seem to back down. One of them turned to us. Hadvar and one Imperial soldier kept them busy while I followed the example of the other Imperial and used magic to aid Hadvar. No matter how mentally exhausting my magical aptitudes have become, the sheer pleasure of seeing someone be lit on fire by my hands was satisfying enough to make me forget about it. Within mere moments the remaining Stormcloaks dropped to the floor while the scent of burned flesh was expanding throughout the room.

 

“You fellows happened along just in time. These boys seemed a bit 'upset' at how I've been entertaining their comrades,” said one of them a few seconds after we’ve somewhat accommodated to the stench. He was an old man wearing a hood, no wonder the torturer. Beside him stood a younger man with several cuts on his arms and face.

 

“Don’t you even know what is happening? A dragon is attacking Helgen!” said Hadvar somewhat outraged at his attitude. The old man dismissed his words with a sarcastic snort. “A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense.” After a few seconds he added: “Although, come to think of it, I did hear some odd noises coming from over there.”

 

“Come with us, we need to get out of here,” Hadvar said. The torturer replied with: “You have no authority over me, boy.” To which I began losing my own temper. “That was a suggestion and not an order, sir! You can either remain here and see how weak your fancy flames in comparison to dragon fire really are, or come with us and live to torture Stormcloaks another day,” I argued in a poisonous tone.

 

Hadvar made his way towards one of the torturer’s cages. “There seems to be something in there, it might be of use.” It was the somewhat fresh corpse of a mage clad in robes, a few coins and also a book bearing the symbol of a burning hand lay next to him.

 

“Oh, that one?” the torturer chimed in. “Don’t bother with it. I’ve lost the key ages ago. The poor fellow screamed for weeks,” he added somewhat pleased at the end.

 

“See if you can get it open with some picks,” Hadvar said while pointing at a small table next to me. It had two lockpics and a dagger which I took and made my way to the lock. The torturer didn’t seem too happy about it. “Sure, take all my things! Please.”

 

“Oh, what a generous soul you have,” I said with a smirk while kneeling before the cage gate. “I’m quite sure you have a few more things that may come in handy.”

* * *

 

“So, how did you actually manage to lock yourself out of your quarters?” Krosis said while fiddling with the lock of my door.

 

“Well, I actually tried to learn the trade.” I said somewhat ashamed. I broke a few lockpics inside the lock and now my key didn’t fit anymore.

 

“Shor’s bones! If you wanted to learn about it, you should have started with something easier,” he said as he turned the lock around, unlocking the door. “Quite a nasty one they’ve got for you there, though it needs to be changed.”

 

“How could that be nasty if it only took you fifteen seconds to open it?” I asked as I led him inside the main hall. He made his way toward a shelf took a bottle of mead for himself and tossed another one at me.

 

“I do this thing for a living. Do you really think I have to assassinate folks and steal stuff from important people all day long?” He said between gulps of mead. “I’ve been eyeing that chest of yours for a while now; it has a pretty cheap lock. You could experiment on it.”

 

“Alright, oh you elusive delinquent, teach me your ways!” I said while putting my half empty bottle on the dining table.

 

“Do you have the key?” he asked. “Yeah, but isn’t it the point of being able to unlock it without the key?” I asked while selecting the right key out of my bundle and giving it to him.

 

“Well of course. But you need to understand how locks actually work before you go around trying to pick them.”

 

“Fair enough,” I replied.

 

“Now inside the lock itself there are some small pins that go up and down in a certain pattern, hence why keys look so different from one another. If you see the key of a lock you can instantly know what pattern to expect. Otherwise you would need a lot of practice depending on the difficulty of the lock. For instance I have never seen the key of your main door before and the pins inside your main lock are quite sensible to the touch. With less complex locks the right pins will feel vastly different from the wrong ones. You start by introducing the lever into the key hole. Depending on the type of lock you could use the tip of a dagger as a lever.”

 

“Alright,” I said as I drew my dagger.

 

“Carefully insert the tip of the dagger into the bottom side of the lock,” he said and I followed his instructions. “Now turn it around just a little, but don’t put too much pressure. That’s perfect! Take a lock pick and slowly introduce it into the keyhole.”

 

“What now?” I curiously asked.

 

“Start fiddling with the pins by gently pressing them upwards. The ones that go up easily are the wrong ones. The ones that go up slowly are the right ones.” I tried a few of the pins and came to one that was moving quite slower than the rest of them. “I think I found one,” I reported back to Krosis.

 

“Good, now gently raise it up until you hear a clicking sound.” I did as commanded and raised the pin upwards. Soon enough a small click could be heard. “Good job. Now repeat the process to all other pins. Once you got all of them right, the pressure you exercise on the dagger will open the lock.” After a few clicks, the lock could be moved and the chest opened. After the both of us took a brief glimpse at the contest of the chest I slammed it shut. “Now I know why I keep the damned thing locked,” I said with great unease.

 

“I never knew you were an artist or that you had a weak spot for female odfahliil,” he said with a blush that I felt trough his mask.

* * *

 

***click*click*click*click***

The cage was unlocked in a few moments. I’ve stripped the mage of his belongings and got out of the cage. I searched around for a bit. On the table form which I took the dagger and the lockpics was a knapsack and a book. I folded the mage’s robes together and put them into the knapsack along with the books. The torturer kept on looking at me like I took everything he had left in this world, and perhaps I did. Meanwhile, Hadvar and the torturer’s assistant were having a discussion.

 

There was a separate section with some additional equipment. I picked up a shield and a few more lock picks. I also found two books entitled: ‘Brief History of the Empire’ volumes I and II which I packed into the knapsack and threw it over my shoulders. There was also a mace, but its poor quality didn’t make it a worthy pick, not to mention I didn’t have that much room left for equipment. I put on the mage’s hood, quickly feeling myself more mentally stable. If there were things that could never change, were the strict rules of enchanting equipment.

 

“Well, we seem to be done here,” I said as I approached Hadvar.

 

“Good, let’s move on,” Hadvar said as he turned around into a hallway full of cages, the assistant was mere meters behind him.

 

*Cough*

 

We all glimpsed back to see the torturer arms crossed and looking at us. “Are you not coming?” I asked.

 

“No!” he responded angrily.

 

“One less mouth to feed,” I commented as I made my way in the direction of the other two.

 

“There’s no way out that way, you know?” we heard from behind us. “It’s still safer that up there!” Hadvar shouted back.

 

The following minutes were quite silent as we followed the hallways. I’m not that good at talking to groups that I barely got to know, at least not the ones that I have no power or responsibility over. Were it just Hadvar and I, I would have made some small talk with him, but now I didn’t want to make the assistant feel like a third wheel.

 

We came to a halt as we’ve heard voices. Before us was a large opening. We counted 3 Stormcloaks and thought we could take one of them down from a distance before engaging the others in a three versus two situation. Hadvar and the assistant both had bows and stuck to the shadows. At Hadvar’s sign they both shot a Stormcloak woman and charged into the room after her fall. I followed soon after only to see that an additional 2 Stormcloaks were at the far end of the room with bows in hand.

 

I manoeuvred fairly quickly towards their position while being elusive enough not to get shot. I noticed that the floor on which they stood was covered with spilled tar and to my luck all it took was a spark to ignite it. The Stormcloaks dropped their bows and were screaming as the lower part of their bodies was on fire. I made sure that the upper parts got their fair share of roasting and soon enough, their incinerated corpses dropped to the floor while that damnable stench filled the air again. When I looked back to Hadvar, I saw that they managed to bring one of the Stormcloaks down and were working on the last. A huge nord wielding a battleaxe constantly parried every hit of theirs, but setting his back on fire surely made him drop his guard and allowed Hadvar and the assistant to finish him off. As the atmosphere settled, the assistant spoke.

 

“Listen, I shouldn’t have left the old man behind. I hope you won’t mind it if I went back to make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”

 

“No, not at all. I’m sorry we sacked you off your provisions,” I said.

 

“Not a problem, that dragon won’t attack the city ‘till the end of time. I’m sure once he’s gone we’ll be able to retreat back to Solitude. Thank you, and watch yourselves out there.”

 

“You too,” Hadvar said as the assistant made his way back up the hallways.

 

“Well that leaves us at only two mouths to feed,” I told Hadvar once the assistant was far enough.

 

“You seem to be concerned a lot about food,” he said and gave me a somewhat smug look.

 

“Gods only know how much time has passed since my last meal. And the provisions we’ve gathered don’t quite mach my eating preferences,” I explained.

 

“Don’t you like venison?” he asked.

 

“I don’t really like meat at all.”

 

“How comes?”

 

“I used to eat it as I was young, but one time I caught a bad taste as I was eating a sausage. And the mind of a 3 year old couldn’t really comprehend it. So I’ve developed a distaste for meat altogether. My father tried to convince me to retry it later on in my youth, but it was just plain out disgusting,” I explained. “Food shouldn’t really be that much of a problem; I’ve got plenty of fat to work with.”

 

Hadvar paused for a few seconds. “Um, if you say so.”

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“You seem quite thin to me,” he said.

 

“WHAT?” I said as I pulled the sleeves of my robe to reveal the musculature that one would usually find on a teenager.

 

“What is happening? Listen I’ve already made it clear that I’m on your side. But you seem so concerned about these petty things. I don’t know how much of an education you received in that tribe of yours, but if something is unsettling you, I want you to know that you can always talk to me about it,” he said with a heart-warming smile.

 

I deeply inhaled and asked: “Hadvar? Do you know anything about a certain Dragon Cult?”

 

“It was some sort of religious community which worshipped dragons back in the Merethic Era. Why are you asking?”

 

‘Merethic Era? Nice name,’ I thought. “When did the Merethic Era come to an end?”

 

“From what I’ve heard from the old tales, it came to an end soon after men rebelled against dragons and defeated them.”

 

“How much time has passed since then?” I barely managed to ask after receiving that dreaded information.

 

“After the Merethic Era began the First Era which lasted about 3000 years, then the Second Era which lasted until 896 when Tiber Septim was crowned as emperor, then the Third Era which lasted for 433 years until the end of the Oblivion Crisis and now it’s the Fourth Era year 201. Again, why are you asking and what is up with that surprised expression on your face?”

 

“Hadvar… Look into my eyes. You tell me what you see!”

 

He took a few steps behind and moved his hand closer to his sheathed sword. “Hadvar, please!” I begged of him while time seemed to have frozen. “I don’t expect the world has changed its view on abominations like myself during these last four and a half thousand years, but I need your help, please!”

 

“How do I know I can trust you?”

 

“Unlike those feral beasts that prey on unlucky townsfolk, I can actually control myself. I used to be a priest of the Dragon Cult,” I had to stop because he drew his sword. “Alright, I know that doesn’t make things any better!” I said as I further raised my hands in a defensive gesture. “But I was knocked out cold, woke up in the ruins of my city and am so confused. I have nobody that I can trust to tell me what I’ve missed. I know how baffling my arguments might be, but please. I don’t plan on hurting you. I’m still a human behind this shroud of darkness,” I pleaded.

 

His wrathful expression faded away though his sword was still in his hand. “And once there’s nothing more I can offer you?”

 

“Then and until then, I will try and offer you as much as I myself can. That’s what a friend should do, right?”

 

“Fine!” he said as he sheathed his sword. “But don’t make me regret this.”

 

“I’m a Nord. Honour comes along with the cold tolerance and thirst for mead.”

 

He mustered a chuckle. “I suppose we should move on.”

 

He led the way, though the hair on the back of his neck slowly stood up. “Would you be calmer if I go forward?”

 

“It’s alright, I was trained to expect dangers from any direction,” he replied.

 

It was my time to chuckle. “What?” Hadvar asked.

 

“I just thought of something really inappropriate about your last sentence,” I explained and he gave in to laughter. Sometimes a bit of flirting and dirty jokes can brighten up the mood more than one could ever expect.

 

We came into a cavern opening full of spider webs. The both of us stopped advancing as we’ve spotted the rather large prey hanged from the ceiling. I motioned Hadvar to get back and prepare his bow as I sensed movement in the proximity. We spotted a grotesque spider the size of a dog slowly creeping towards us. I turned to Hadvar and nodded. He nodded as well and drew his bow. The loosened arrow hit the spider spot on and sent its body flying towards the other side of the cavern.

 

Soon after, we could hear more movement. Another dog-sized spider made its way towards us while two larger ones lowered themselves from the webs covering the ceiling. After I’ve seen the size of them, I made the most girly sound a Nord could muster and as Hadvar’s arrow flew past me, successfully claiming the life of the dog-sized spider skittering towards us, I’ve unleashed hell upon the other two. My flames managed to scare them off while Hadvar’s arrows picked them off before disappearing into small passageways.

 

“What’s next? Giant snakes?” Hadvar asked after a few seconds.

 

“Don’t…You…Even…”

 

“A cowardly vampire! Now that’s a sight to see,” he commented.

 

“Listen well, boy! Thousands of your kind have fallen before me. But this? This is a completely new foe for me. Just look at what their favourite meal is!” I said as I pointed to the human corpses hanging from the ceiling.  

 

“You’re right. Let’s move on before even bigger ones show up,” he said with a chuckle.

 

I left his comment slide off. After a few more passageways we emerged into an even bigger cavern. The sight of coagulated blood acting as a carpet for the cave floor made us thread carefully. A stream divided the cavern in two. We could spot bone piles on the far end. I motioned Hadvar to stop advancing.

 

“There’s something behind those bone piles. Something big,” I whispered to him. “I can feel its heartbeat. The heart itself is quite close to the ground and the veins are forming a mass above it. It might be a sleeping bear.”

 

“Do you think we could take it by surprise?” Hadvar asked.

 

“Are you out of your mind? No! Let’s see if we can sneak our way out and hope we don’t wake it up.”

 

We moved as silently as possible. It took us a few good minutes to pass by unnoticed, courtesy of Hadvar’s choice of armour. A single tunnel marked the end of the enormous cavern. We faithfully followed it. I don’t suppose the bear made an arrangement with the torturer and the spiders for food. This tunnel had to lead us outside.

 

After a few more steps we could notice sunlight pouring into the cave’s entrance. Hadvar and I quickened our pace and soon enough the warmth of the sun embraced both of us. I could hear a mighty roar before Hadvar tackled me back into the cave. I tried to fight back, but he grabbed my shoulder and put his finger over my lips while giving me a concerned look. He then pointed towards the sky. I looked up only to see Alduin flying over the mountains.

 

“Sorry!” I said once he was out of sight.

 

“It’s alright, I don’t think it would have come for us anyway,” Hadvar said while helping me to my feet. “There you go! The nearest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle Alvar is the blacksmith there, I’m sure he’ll help us out.”

 

“How long will it take to get there?” I asked while watching the sun moving westwards and being close to disappearing behind the mountains. The sight as a whole was breathtaking, making me envy people like Krosis or Rahgot who got to get out more often than I did.

 

“We may need to set camp in a few hours. Wait a second. Aren’t you supposed to turn to ash?”

 

I couldn’t do anything but laugh at that remark. “It really makes you wonder how close you were to death, while thinking some fairy tales might make you survive a vampire encounter.”

 

“Hey!” he said. He wasn’t so pleased by my remark. “Oh I apologise for making you sound like a damned fool. Please – whatever is it you do – just don’t shove garlic down my throat.” I said with tears of joy in my eyes.

 

“Well, it would seem we can both learn from one another. Mind opening my eyes?” he said.

 

“One more thing you shouldn’t do is staying still into the wilderness while night approaches,” I said with a smirk, but changed back to serious pretty quickly. “Maybe once night falls and we are having dinner. Consider it a campfire story that you’ll have to hear before going to bed, knowing that you’ve left the sole thing that you’ve been warn about to ‘stalk’…ugh, I mean guard you as you sleep.”

 

Hadvar punched the same shoulder the Captain has scored her last hit on. He then turned around with a pleased expression and led the way.

 

“So, is there any particular reason you haven’t joined Ulfric’s side?” I asked after a few minutes of silently walking.

 

“Well, my father was a Legionnaire. He fought in the Great War…and died in it too,” he added silently. “My mother wasn’t that fond of it, but we needed to survive from one day to another in the absence of my father. I served the Imperial Legion for a few years now and managed to keep both of us fed. And as for Ulfric, I wasn’t about to abandon the Empire just to be a tool of fulfilling his ideology. The peace treaty wasn’t the Empire’s finest hour, but Ulfric is far from being the hero everyone depicts him as. I’ve got better things to do than following him blindly thinking that he’s better than the Legion.”

 

“I see. And how did you manage to capture him if he was able to kill the High King and leave to tell the story?” I asked.

 

“A masterstroke from General Tullius. He’s only been here for a few months, but he has turned the tide of this war in the favour of the Empire. He tricked Ulfric into leaving his nest and we ambushed him at Darkwater Crossing. You were there as well.”

 

“And that’s when you tied me up and thrown me on that cart with the rest of the Stormcloaks,” I continued.

 

“Yeah, about that, what in the world were you doing out there? While Ulfric offered himself without a fight, you showed up flailing your arms and sputtering out nonsense.”

 

“What sort of nonsense?” I asked.

 

“I can’t tell, it sounded like Ancient Nordic for all I know,” he said.

 

“The last thing I recall before waking up on that carriage was the failed robbery attempt of a Khajiit. I never saw its kind, let alone taste it. I think you can figure out what happened next,” I explained.

 

“Did you strip him off of his belongings afterwards?”

 

“Yes, but he didn’t really have any food on himself, just bread crumbs and an empty purple phial. Which reminds me...” I said as I grabbed a loaf of bread from the sack over my shoulder.

 

“How did you find the taste of his blood?” He curiously asked.

 

“Oddly sweet, to be honest.” I said between bites.

 

“I think the poor sod had Skooma in that bottle,” Hadvar said.

 

“Gesundheit!” I said while having half of the loaf stuffed into my mouth. Hadvar gave me an annoyed look.

 

“Skooma is a drug and you shouldn’t bite more than you can swallow!”

 

“This is probably the first piece of food that I have had the privilege of eating in the last four millennia. Let me fucking enjoy it!”

 

“Gods, you’re disgusting,” he commented.

 

“Hmm. Thank you for mentioning them. The horse thief begged for their mercy as we entered Helgen. Did they change?”

 

“Just some of their names changed. You know, Tamriel is quite a big place, I suppose they had to find some common terms once all of it was united into a single Empire,” Hadvar explained as we emerged on a paved road leading downhill.

 

“Do you see that ruin up on that mountain? Bleak Falls Barrow. When I used to be a boy, that place always gave me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that sort of thing. I admit, I still don’t very much like the look of it,” he said while pointing at it.

 

“Draugr are guardians that don’t overstep the boundaries of their resting place. As for Bleak Falls, it used to be a nice little temple with spectacular falls in the innermost sanctum. It’s quite sad to hear that it was turned into a barrow.”

 

“Have you ever seen Draugr in your life?” he asked as he got back to moving down the road.

 

“I have,” I said. “My father was actually one of the pioneers who created them. They served as guards and maintainers of graves. They usually discouraged any profaner or scared off any robber trying his luck. Not to mention that they could be taught how to embalm other corpses. I suppose even today you have a table on which the body is laid, and after the ceremony you are kindly being asked to leave as the priests go through the _‘ever tiring’_ process of embalming a body.”

 

“So they don’t even lift a finger?” he asked.

 

“No, worst case scenario they have to lift their amulets. Did you ever wonder why entering a barrow without the company of a priest is frowned upon or considered blasphemous?”

 

“The more you know…” he said as we’ve approached three ancient carved stones. “These are the Guardian Stones, three out of the thirteen that dot the landscape of Skyrim. Each guardian is said to protect its three charges, except the Serpent. These stones are enchanted. If your star sign is a Guardian, it will send a beam of light into the sky, if you are one of its charges, the light will just circle you. They are quite a sight to see. Go on, try it for yourself.”

 

The stones bared the carvings of their respective constellations. The carvings were done at the perfect angles to face whoever stood before them. As I approached the centre, a flicker of blue essence rose from the one baring the constellation of the mage and shrouded me. After a few moments, the essence returned back to the stone.

 

“A charge of the Mage, eh? Well to each its own. It’s not for me to judge,” Hadvar commented.

 

“Let me guess, you are a Warrior.”

 

“A charge of the Warrior,” he said. I could catch a minor darkening of his eyes. I showed him the most perverted smile a vampire could muster and he started looking to the side.

 

“You’re a Lady, aren’t you?” I asked while trying to hold back my laughter. He gave no response. “Aw, the kind hearted Lady is showing an ancient Atronach around.”

 

“We should probably set camp for the night,” he said while punching the same shoulder as before.

 

“Would you be so kind as to gather some wood for the fire, my lady?”

 

“Please don’t make this a thing,” he said as he started moving towards some fallen branches.

 

“Fine,” I said as I started unpacking some food and making sure the ground was comfortable enough for us to sleep.

 

Within mere moments we set up a camp in the watch of the Guardians. After unpacking the food, I realised we had no pots to prepare stews in. Hadvar settled down for some roasted meat, while I took a few more sips of water.

 

“I woke up after you, you get to sleep first,” I said while unpacking the books.

 

“What happened to the campfire story?” he asked in a disappointed tone.

 

“I just realised that four thousand years might have brought some changes to the common vampire. I’ll need to do some research on this subject before enlightening you.”

 

“Fair enough.” After a few moments he added: “How did you actually become a vampire?”

 

“Per choice. I was part of the high priesthood of the Cult and we intended to keep it that way. Most of my friends took to lichdom. I didn’t quite like that idea, so I started doing some research on vampirism…to be more accurate, on vampires themselves. I took down the strongest one I could find and injected myself with his venom. But it’s really not something everyone should do, so don’t get your hopes up,” I explained.

 

“I wasn’t even planning that,” he admitted. “Wake me up at midnight or whenever you feel too tired.”

 

“Understood. Good night!” I said as I focused on my perimeter. I could only sense bugs and fishes in the nearby river.

 

I opened up the book baring the symbol of the burning hand and took a look at the title: ‘Principles of Shock Magic: Sparks’

 

I read a few pages and suddenly memories started resurfacing. Novice shock spells are quite similar to flame spells. They both focus on manipulating heat. The differences being the following:

  1. They are more concentrated, and thus have a smaller area of impact.
  2. Due to their concentration, they usually have a greater range than fire spells.
  3. Instead of manipulating the air in front of you, your magika is transformed into pure electric energy and have the potential of causing your opponent some severe damage on their magika pool.



 

The book vanished into thin air, a sign of comprehending the lesson. I raised my hands and successfully brought forth electricity in my palms. I lowered them right afterwards feeling satisfied.

 

Nothing else happened until midnight. I woke Hadvar up and drifted to sleep, too tired to even think further about everything that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dovahzul Dictionary (because I feel like saving you a trip to Thu’um.org)   
> Monahven [mo’na vɛn] = Throat of the World; Refers to the whole mountain, not just the peak. Compound of ‘monah’ (mother) and ‘ven’ (wind). If you are interested on why it is called Mother (of the) Wind in Dovahzul, search for “Children of the Sky” - a book in the game.  
> Odfahliil [odfəˈlil] = Falmer as in Snow Elves like Knight-Paladin Gelebor and Arch-Curate Vyrthur(Dawnguard DLC). Compound of ‘od’ (snow) and ‘fahliil’ (elf/mer).  
> The name of the contemporaneous, cave dwelling Falmer will be revealed in later chapters.  
> As always, I hope you found it interesting. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts in the comment section. Alright, no more promises I cannot keep. But still, I could use some feedback.


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